


I Hope That You Can Enjoy It, Too

by falsilo_quence



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Aspec author, Canon-Typical Mind Fuckery, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Elias is a fucking creep, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Martin is just trying to help, Neurodivergent Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Now with a second chapter!, PLEASE HEED THE TAGS, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29923062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsilo_quence/pseuds/falsilo_quence
Summary: “No.” Jon managed with some effort. “No, I just-“ he stammered for a moment as Elias intruded again. “I need you to leave. I had really ought to get this statement recorded and be on my way home.” He said hurriedly. Combative as Jon was, he never was good at fighting back against Elias, without even considering how flustered he was.“No, I don’t think I can just leave you here. I think you were hoping to get something out of me.” The way Elias spoke reminded Jon of how a snake might move its mouth- of how its tongue might weave soft-spoken lies, and its fangs only visible when it was too late.——Or, Elias takes advantage of Jon’s feelings and manipulates him into fulfilling his own needs.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Kudos: 40





	1. I Hope That You Can Enjoy It, Too

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags on this one, it’s definitely pretty heavy. A few more detailed warnings here in case:  
> -Mention of intrusive thoughts  
> -Manipulation of said intrusive thoughts  
> -Mental intrusion and violation  
> -Elias is told to stop several times, and it is ignored and/or manipulated  
> -Slight coerced consent? But it is mostly nonconsensual  
> -Elias is very creepy and manipulative in general
> 
> Also, I use the words cock, cunt, and clit to refer to transmale anatomy. Jon has had top surgery but it is only mentioned breifly.

Elias had been notably off these last few months. Perhaps it was simply that Jon had only lately begun to see him more frequently. Or perhaps it was that Jon had made of paying greater attention to details that would have otherwise slipped his notice. Paranoia will do that to you, especially after a year of attacks and kidnappings and far more visions of hell than one man has a right to; add to that the growing number of scars to commit to record of his experiences.

He had taken on a somewhat more proactive role as a leader, for one. He had previously been somewhat of a recluse, and was, even on the best of days, a rather passive boss. But since his Archivist had been compromised for a time, he’d had to do much more in the way of his employees and peers. At best, this meant more direction in the others’ work, and at worst, it meant a great deal more emotional tensions being brought into the working environment as a result of his manipulations. And when Jon was at the Institute and not running out on errands or suicide missions directed by Elias, he had certainly found as much.

Elias had become a great deal more pressing a figure, in every sense. He’d been more overbearing as a boss, to the point of sounding on occasions like an overly proud parent molding Jon into whatever he envisioned for him. He could go from one extreme to another in a heartbeat, scolding him for a short-sighted mistake one minute, then to showering him with praise the next. And his more personal advances had not entirely gone over Jon’s head. Elias had been insistently close to Jon at any public function (they were few- but the Institute still had a mundane business-like front to maintain), and had on several occasions broken formalicy to bring him into a somewhat discomforting embrace or pecking a kiss onto his forehead in private. Jon, for his part, had found it a bit uncomfortable, to say the least. He had never been great with confrontation (anxiety always drove a sharp chill through his body, his hands would shake, and it was obvious to any that paid great attention that he had flushed a deep red that brushed nearly all the way up to the tips of his ears; despite his skill with language, he had been eaten alive in debate in high school. Notably, the only override to this fluster was genuine anger or frustration, as Tim had recently discovered), but he had pulled Elias to the side a few times previous and made it as clear as possible that he did not reciprocate any affection, and firmly requested that he stop doing these things. Every time Elias would agree, and would actually back off for a while. But he had never stopped pushing him entirely.

Jon found himself drifting helplessly into his thoughts once again. He could feel so acutely his mind clamoring with the commotion of thoughts that bombarded him so often- even before his position as Head Archivist. He didn’t like to be lost in his own head, as it was far from a hospitable place to be stuck in. He had made a habit of talking to himself or listening to music or white noise on a pair of headphones that he always kept in his desk or on his person- anything to keep the bombardment of his own mind away for a while. Rarely would thoughts form coherently in this place, especially if he closed his eyes, where undefinable visions would cross his eyes for a split second before disappearing as quickly as they were seen- not nearly enough time to process an actual image. Not long enough to know if what he felt of the imagery was fear or comfort. Add to this the frequency of intrusive thoughts, especially more recently, and Jon had no inclination to stay in his mind any longer than he absolutely must.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had properly slept, and everytime he had laid down in his bed with intentions to rest, his eyes stayed open and hungry, his mind restless and loud. It seemed the only times exhaustion threatened to take him was when he had not the time to allow for it. He was constantly working desperately to sate his hunger and meet his physical needs for sleep, while simultaneously trying his damnedest to gain a footing against the Unknowing, and frankly, it was all exhausting.

With his mind in such a state, it was not difficult to find himself swept away by thoughts that didn’t feel like his own. Most were easy enough to live with, but all too often he found himself at the mercy of some violent fiction or sexual fantasy playing out in his mind that he would find it especially hard to concentrate at times.

Jon was never really interested in sex, though. He certainly didn’t hate it in concept, but in practice, it had never really worked. While he was very physically affectionate, he had never quite managed to be comfortable in any sexually intimate environment. He had tried- he really had- but even with minimal actual experience, it just didn’t seem to be something he could engage in positively with most people- if anyone.

Of course, this made no difference to the thoughts that would mercilessly assail his mind regardless of his feelings on the matter. Let it be said that despite Jon himself being almost everything one might think of when they hear the word asexual, he had always had a rather hard-to-tame libido, no matter how frustrating it was to him (he would have personally described it as obnoxious- under layers of vague and euphemistic language, of course). So he had simply come to the conclusion that what he did in his own bed in his own mind was for no one’s eyes but his own- that fretting about it was pointless. Lately, however, the fear had come of him that Elias had taken to looking, and perhaps had taken it the wrong way.

To say that Jon was attracted to Elias would be a vast oversimplification of matters. Rarely did Jon ever find himself drawn sexually to others (he had long had a deep appreciation for aesthetic beauty, but had also since realized that this was not the same thing as sexual attraction), but had, on occasion, found himself in hopeless resignation to the feeling. Really, he had no say over who he was drawn to in this way. Frustratingly, Elias fell into this- albeit ambiguous- category, and Jon had incredibly mixed feelings about it. He had held Elias in weary regard ever since the murders in February, and even before then he had a creeping sense that Elias was simply disguising his hostility behind a veil of faux good intentions. Notably, he had at no point, ever trusted him fully. Somehow though, this distrust just seemed to further encourage his mind into the thoughts of being taken advantage of by that snake.

Jon shook his head, trying to re-orient himself. He adjusted his glasses and sat up straighter in his chair, casting his eyes about his desk for a statement. He hadn’t gotten one recorded in a day or two, and he was eager to do anything to distract himself; as it seemed that just absently reading was doing nothing to help. It was just then that his office door swung open. No one really seemed inclined to knock as of late.

“Jon?” Elias entered calmly, a blank expression sitting on his face oddly.

Jon looked up, hesitating to meet his eyes. “What do you want?” His voice was very deliberately cold.

“There’s no need to be hostile, Jon. I simply wanted to check up on you, especially considering… well,” he paused, and Jon’s face seemed to twist in frustration. “You do realize it is almost 10 pm, right? You could have clocked out hours ago.”

“Ah, I- um,” He babbled. “Sorry, I hadn’t noticed, frankly.” In all honesty, Jon had completely forgotten to take note of the time. It tended to slip his mind, especially when he got to thinking. Jon began to fidget with his hands a bit.

If there was anything to be said about Elias, it should be noted that he had long been incredibly hedonistic. And often times, he got quite a kick out of the discomfort- or even more so the embarrassed, shameful pleasure- of others. He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t prodded at the thoughts in others’ minds for his own joy, or even conjured an image of his own crafting into their head. The reactions he could manage to stir with a scene or thought alone was so much more than just pleasurable. And he couldn’t have resisted the opportunity.

Jon recognized the thought the moment it began to form, but he did not identify it as alien. At first, a concept: Elias holding him against the wall behind his desk. His hands woven in Jon’s hair, uttering quiet whispers of praise, and a roaming touch so sharp it seemed to directly contrast the words filling his ear. It almost didn’t phase him- the bombardment of his own convoluted mind all evening had begun to feel like mental static, and the thought had almost faded into the background. But it pressed on. Then, a scene: a feeling. Kisses down his neck, his collarbone- sparing just a hint of teeth. Hands found themselves cast to the small of his back, his sides, his hips, slowly working his clothing off and bringing his body into the focus of Elias’ sight. It was all so… vivid. So real- Jon couldn’t help but flinch somewhat noticeably at the sensation. Elias smiled ever so slightly.

“Is there something wrong, Jon?” Elias said in a tone that seemed all too delicate.

“No.” Jon managed with some effort. “No, I just-“ he stammered for a moment as Elias intruded again. “I need you to leave. I had really ought to get this statement recorded and be on my way home.” He said hurriedly. Combative as Jon was, he never was good at fighting back against Elias, without even considering how flustered he was.

“No, I don’t think I can just leave you here. I think you were hoping to get something out of me.” The way Elias spoke reminded Jon of how a snake might move its mouth- of how its tongue might weave soft-spoken lies, and its fangs only visible when it was too late.

“What? That’s not-“ The words erupted from him almost by instinct.

“Oh, come now Archivist,” Elias said with some apparent mockery in his voice, “Don’t play ignorant. I have seen what you think of me, you know.” At that moment, Jon’s heart sank and his whole body seemed to be clutched with ice and electricity. His every muscle seemed to still at once and his nerves screamed at him to move- to act, to do something. “So many delightfully perverse fantasies, one can’t help but feel a bit flattered.”

Elias had made his way around Jon’s desk and rested his hand on the wooden surface, leaning his weight slightly against his arm. Jon had moved backwards in his chair, away from Elias’ approach. He continued, “My Archivist, staying late at work just to savor daydreams that he knew could be seen. It sounds a tad unprofessional, to me,” Elias quirked his brow, and something tugged the corner of his mouth into a twisted smile. “I think you wanted me here.”

Jon stood up. Fear had turned to frustration, which was quickly boiling over into anger. He was very upset that Elias would poke around in his head like that- but the vindication of his suspicions being right was not entirely lost. His looking through his mind was almost more violating than what he was actually saying. Among his racing thoughts, the only thing Jon could manage to say was, “ _Piss. Off_.”

He put as much force behind his words as he could, and quickly made way to leave, to push past Elias and get out of this room that suddenly felt so much more pressing. But Elias was much stronger than Jon, and if he didn’t want him leaving, he wasn’t going to. And so Elias pushed back. Swiftly and deliberately, Elias grabbed Jon by the collar and shoved him against the wall behind him. The momentum alone was enough to knock a slight gasp out of Jon’s lungs.

“Drop the act, Jon. We both know this is what you’ve wanted.” Elias said firmly. Before Jon could muster a response though, Elias was bringing his thigh between the Archivist’s legs and pressing. It took everything within himself to not move, to not use the contact to stir friction.

“I don’t want this!” He snapped. He _knew_ he didn’t- and he had made it clear to Elias that he was not interested. He was his boss for god’s sake- this shouldn’t even be within question. And yet his words had a lot more doubt in them than he was ready to admit. He was curious, but not enough to really want this- no matter how much his body might protest otherwise. Elias started grinding his leg into Jon as he spoke.

“You’re distracting yourself. You have wanted this for so very long, and I just want to help you. You need to let yourself enjoy this.” The smile on Elias’ face seemed to twist into itself, and his words were a sickening kind of affectionate. Despite his best efforts, Jon’s expression began to display something resembling frustrated pleasure.

Elias cupped Jon’s face in his hands, and kissed him forcefully. Elias coaxed a low cry out of the Archivist as he bit lightly at his bottom lip and pressed his tongue into his mouth. Jon’s mind began to buzz as he began to lose touch with his thoughts. His body seemed to be overcome with heat as a pool of discomforting arousal settled low in his gut. Elias released his claim of Jon’s mouth, and was swiftly removing Jon’s pullover and unbuttoning his shirt.

“Elias, please-“ Jon hated how dazed he sounded when he forced the words out of himself.

“Am I hurting you?” He slowed his progress on Jon’s clothing, but did not stop.

“What? No, I just- I don’t-“ Jon stammered.

“Good. Feel free to stop me if I do.”

Elias began tracing his hands along Jon’s numerous scars, caressing pockmarked flesh and professional surgical scars alike. His mouth soon found itself traversing Jon’s jaw and neck with absent-minded kisses, easing the sensation of teeth into his skin. Jon was sure there would be marks if Elias continued at this rate, and he dreaded the thought. Elias bit down, harder than before, into the crook of Jon’s neck, dragging a yelp out of him. A low chuckle escaped Elias’ throat. Jon suddenly became aware that he’d been moving into Elias’ touch, and his hips had picked up a steady and unwilled rhythm.

“My, Archivist…” Elias said, breathy and affectionate, uttering the title with an almost sickening level of possessiveness. He looked up to meet Jon’s dazed and half closed eyes. “Eager, aren’t we?” Jon’s jaw tensed tightly at the words.

“That’s not-“ Jon tried to resist. He really did.

“If it helps you to pretend you dislike this, then I certainly won’t stop you, love.” Elias moved his hands over Jon’s chest and stomach, slowly and carefully surveying every detail of his exposed body. Elias pulled his own leg back, and part of Jon ached at the loss, though he cursed himself thoroughly for it. He wasn’t grieving for long before Elias was working to replace the sensation. Carefully, he loosened Jon’s trousers and eased a hand into his boxers. His touch was precise and slow, unwinding him ever so deliberately, teasing at his cock with the pad of his thumb. Jon, for all his stubbornness, couldn’t help but lean into the touch. His spare hand had splayed over Jon’s left side, holding his hips steady and keeping him in place against the wall with hard enough a grip that Jon, for a moment, worried about it bruising. Jon choked back cries as Elias adjusted, prodding at Jon’s cunt and beginning to work into him with his fingers, continuing to rub his clit with his palm using just enough force to keep Jon squirming. His left hand crept up to hold tightly at Jon’s unbuttoned undershirt collar, pulling it taught where it once hung absently over his body. Elias leaned into Jon’s neck, his breath steady and warm.

“You’re doing so well, for me, Jonathan.” Elias’ voice was hardly above a whisper but it rang out in Jon’s ear. Jon’s own breathing had begun to hasten and falter, as breathy sounds threatened to escape his throat. Jon came closer and closer to crashing over the edge, before suddenly, it all stopped. Elias wordlessly removed himself, if only slightly. Jon finally had the space to breathe, but couldn’t shake how riled up he had gotten. He tried to come to his senses, before he realized why Elias had taken his hands off of him. Elias made quick work of loosening his tie and unbuttoning his trousers. Jon would have guessed that Elias must have been trying to make a show of it, as minimal an action as it was. Jon couldn’t help but watch, though he begged himself to tear his eyes away as Elias pulled his own trousers and boxers fully off, discarding them in the same vicinity as his pullover.

Elias cupped Jon’s face in his hand delicately as if he were made of glass, kissing him softly in a way that felt subtly venomous. “I want to make this good for you, love. Please do let yourself enjoy it.”

It seems Jon had underestimated his strength, because within a moment he had hoisted Jon up roughly, pressing his bare hips flush against Elias’ still clothed cock, grinding pleasantly against him. He took some minimal joy in the knowledge that he was likely making a proper mess of Elias’ underwear. He couldn’t relish the thought for long though, as Elias stroked himself to full hardness and began pressing at Jon’s cunt. Reality seemed to crash around him as the physical contact shocked him to his core, and suddenly, the spell of silent cooperation was broken.

“Wait, Elias please, I’m not-“ Jon spat hurriedly, all at once incredibly tense. His words were cut off, however, by a low whine ripped from his throat as Elias had all at once pushed himself into Jon. Elias halted his movement for a moment as they both adjusted to the feeling. Jon was quickly becoming overwhelmed, it was too much. That isn’t to say that Elias was anything more than slightly above average in size, but his mind had begun to swim in a fog of lost focus, and it was far from pleasant to be separated from coherency. Jon was torn violently back to reality as Elias began to rock into him.

“God, Archivist you’re wonderful,” Elias had lost his composure some, and his words came out breathy and unfocused. “ _My Archivist_ ,” He seemed to pur. Elias’ hand had pressed into the crook of Jon’s left hip to hold him in place, and his right hand now ventured to grind Jon’s cock between his knuckles messily. Jon bucked into the pressure before he could think, and his voice came in shallow bursts and moans as Elias picked up his pace and force.

Hot breath and words of praise tumbled absently from Elias’ mouth as he continued to fuck into Jon hastily, chasing his own climax. He greedily accepted every sound that Jon made, adored his ability to unwind the man who had prided himself on his composure above much else. Elias hadn’t anticipated just how satisfying it would be to see his Archivist uttering profanities and crying his name like a sour prayer, even if it meant sacrificing some of his own dignity. But he was not above it.

Jon had lost any ability to think clearly, his body wracked with pleasure and exposure. He always felt like he was being watched closely when he was around Elias, but now, with so much of his body exposed and so open like this, he could swear he felt Elias’ cold gaze devour every inch of his skin. Elias was being so rough with him that he hardly had the space to breathe, he felt like his body was melting into every touch. The tears welling in the corners of his eyes were almost startlingly cool, grounding himself to every physical sensation. Quickly, Elias moved to wipe them away, planting steady kisses down his neck and his jaw, muttering things like, _my archivist_ , and, _for me_ , and, _so wonderful_ into Jon’s skin, threatening to burn him.

“Elias, _please_ ,” Jon whined, but what he actually wanted seemed lost on him now. Elias seemed to take it as an invitation, adjusting his angle and driving into Jon madly.

“You’re so good for me, Archivist.” Elias said, hardly seeming to pay attention to what he was saying anymore. He was becoming more disorganized by the minute, and every movement seemed to resonate violently into Jon as he felt his orgasm building low in his stomach. A harsh cry escaped his throat as Elias bit down into his collarbone. It felt like he was falling apart. It was all too much.

“I want to hear you. I want you to come for me, Jonathan.” His words were steadier than before, and Jon didn’t need to be told twice. Within moments, Jon was crashing over the edge, humming Elias’ name and babbling nonsense the whole way. Elias fucked him through it, beginning to horribly overstimulate him as he continued to work Jon’s cock.

“Ah- Elias, I can’t keep- I can’t,” Jon pleaded as his legs began to shake, locking around Elias’ waist desperately.

Elias shushed him, “You can. I know you can.”

Elias continued working into him roughly, and soon enough, he had draped his body entirely over Jon’s, sheathing himself fully as he spilled inside of him with a ragged groan. Jon was all at once so full, consumed by heat and electricity, and his body seemed to spasm as he felt a second wave come over him. Finally, Elias mercifully removed his hand from Jon’s clit, and he tried not to sag obviously with relief. Elias kissed Jon once more, with less enthusiasm than before, but with just enough venom, and pulled out of his wet cunt crudely. Jon got to his own feet well enough, with only some trouble, and Elias was soon collecting himself and fixing his clothing, tucking himself back into his trousers as if entirely unphased.

“Jonathan, my Archivist, you were perfect. I truly am pleased with you,” he assured as he grabbed the still shaking Jon by the shoulders steadily. A kiss fell upon his forehead, colder than ever, and he was gone.

Jon slumped back against the wall, sliding down to meet the cold ground against his bare skin. Pulling his boxers and pullover back on, he clutched his knees and tried to collect himself as his stomach turned sickly.


	2. I Can’t Be The Only One Who Hears You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Jon’s confrontation with Elias, Martin comes to check on him suspecting that he has spent the night in his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up this morning and figured I’d write a little bit of Jon and Martin hurt/comfort. I am feeling deliriously sick, so apologies if it isn’t my best work or if it is a bit short. But otherwise, have some softness.
> 
> No beta here, we die like men.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice came cautiously from behind the door of Jon’s office before opening it entirely. Jon hadn’t come in this morning and Martin had suspected that he had stayed overnight. It happened occasionally enough, and most often when he did, he didn’t sleep. He looked around the room only to find Jon absent from his desk, instead curled small against the back wall, his head resting on his knees. His expression was worrying, a mask of ill-concealed stress. 

“Jon!” Martin’s voice raised a bit as he closed the door gently and approached him, getting to his own knees and reaching his hand absently for one of Jon’s. “Jon what the hell happened, are you alright?” He asked only out of habit, he could tell just by looking at him that he was far from alright.

Jon looked up at him, somewhat doubtfully. He hesitated. He didn’t want to rope Martin into his own issues, everyone had their fair share of stress lately and he had little intention of worsening it for the others. But he had so little will left in himself to keep it bottled up. 

“Uh, it was Elias, he,” he muttered. Martin’s eyes flashed with a kind of understanding.

“Oh, god, you too? I knew he confronted Melanie, but I didn’t think-“ he exhaled shakilly. “What did he say?”

“No, I- he didn’t,” upon consideration, it was similar to what he had said to Melanie, but… no, this was different. “He didn’t _say_ much.” 

Jon’s heart was gripped with ice and his stomach turned ill. He didn’t want to say it, especially not to Martin. He knew it was his fault for provoking it, like blood drawing a shark. But he had been the one to spill it. 

“Jon, please, just,” Martin cautiously brought Jon to face him, his palm warm and grounding, though Jon couldn’t help but flinch against the contact at first. “You don’t have to tell me, but whatever he did, you can’t blame yourself, it wasn’t your fault, okay?”

Martin knew well enough what it was like to blame oneself for misfortune. God knows that every time his mother had been even remotely cross with him, even if he had done nothing to provoke it, he had always found a way to convince himself that it was his fault. And that was the last thing Jon needed to think right now.

Jon thought of the hour and a half he had spent in the washroom the night before, trying desperately to get himself clean. To get rid himself of every touch and mark that Elias had left upon his body. How panicked he had been at the feeling of Elias lingering inside of himself.

“Martin, you know I’m trans, right?” The words seemed to fall out, breaking the silence. 

“What? I mean, no, but er,” he was now much more worried. “I mean, I don’t think any differently of you because you are, I guess I just assumed…” he trailed off.

“Elias, he,” he steadied his breathing as the words seemed to surge a certain panic through him. “He had sex with me. I- I didn’t want to. Or, I don’t think so, he just- he just did, and I couldn’t-“ he began to blink hard, fighting back tears. 

Martin’s posture sagged and cruel realization swept over him. “Oh my god,” Jon met his eyes and that was all it took. “Christ, I’m so sorry. Jon, I didn’t think-“ he didn’t know what to say, much less what to do. But seeing Jon so broken down made his heart ache violently. He thought he could kill Elias on the spot. He _knew_ he could have. But that had to wait. Slowly, he pulled Jon into a close embrace. 

“I’m sorry, Martin,” Jon was shaking and Martin wished with all his heart that he could fix it. Jon let go of his knees and wrapped his arms around Martin. “God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he would- I didn’t think-“ he babbled half-coherently as he began to cry into Martin’s shoulder. Jon held onto Martin like he was going to be violently torn away from him within seconds. Martin didn’t let go, just held him close, and tried to provide some ease, some respite. 

“It’s okay, Jon. It isn’t your fault. You’re okay now.” Martin tried his best to assure, idly stroking his hand through Jon’s hair. Jon had a hard time escaping his own mind as he curled into Martin. Martin was safe, for now, he was his safety. He continued to whisper habitual apologies. He hated to bring Martin into this mess, though some more logical part of him deeply recognized and appreciated the care of a gesture like this. Even greater was the blossoming affection towards Martin as he bore his heart to him and was not hurt for doing so. But mostly, he was only cognitive enough to apologize for the burden. 

Jon laughed sourly, “I honestly didn’t think about how intrusive it would be to have someone poking around in your head like that,” he leaned back slightly, and Martin loosened his hold. “He managed to twist everything I thought and I-“ tears started to blur his vision and he ran a hand through his hair. His head fell and he took off his glasses to wipe his eyes, “God, I just-“ 

Martin hugged him. “It’s alright. You don’t have to talk about it.”

And so they stayed there. Jon only let go of Martin when he was sure he could stand the loss, and Martin only allowed himself to leave when he knew that Jon was feeling, at least temporarily, better. 

When Martin passed Elias’ office on the way back to work, he swore to himself that one day, if someone was going to kill him, it would be him. 


End file.
